


Too Late

by FlyAway_33



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of drugs and alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/pseuds/FlyAway_33
Summary: One shot written for a Tumblr writing challenge based on the lyrics:“Now you tell me you’re leaving, and I just can’t believe it’s true. Oh, you know that I can love you, though I know I can’t be true.”





	Too Late

Roger’s eyes fluttered open to the feeling of someone stirring in the bed beside him. A small smile of contentment played at his lips as he stretched his sore muscles, his back and biceps screaming from the overuse they suffered each night on stage in order to play his unique drum sound flawlessly. Last night had been another epic show with an even more epic afterparty, and he played the whole night through his mind as he let his eyes grow heavy once more, forgetting what had even woken him in the first place.

Ah yes, last night had been so much fun. He’d hit every beat and every note in every song. A perfect performance for him, and the party had been a whirlwind of joyous toasts to the band’s success, plenty of games, music, dancing, sex, drugs, everything that a great celebration needed had been provided. 

Wait. 

Sex. 

That wasn’t supposed to be part of it anymore.

He shot straight up in bed as his eyes snapped open wide once more and he rounded on the person beside him. The girl who was not his. She was not the girl he’d been in love with for the past two years, yet she smiled sleepily up at him and purred for him to lay back down, something about making the morning last a little longer.

“N-n-no!” he cried, more dramatic than he’d intended. “I mean, I need to leave, I’m sorry—”

“Fuck you.” She spat, sitting up and pulling her dress back on in one fluid motion. She gathered her shoes from the floor and stalked to the door of the crappy motel room she’d brought him to when he’d remembered they couldn’t go back to his, as he shared a room with John. They must’ve come here last minute, checking in in the wee hours of the morning after leaving the party, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember more than flirting with her at the bar. Just harmless flirting. How could he have let himself do this again?

“It’s not you, its just I have to get back—”

“I don’t need to hear it.” she hissed. “I knew I was just going to be the nice piece of ass of the night, but you could’ve been nicer about it.” She turned on her heel and she was gone, and he never even knew her name. She was right, she was just a meaningless body he’d used for fun, and he couldn’t even remember it. 

His stomach rolled at the thought of how badly he’d just fucked up again and he wanted to scream. Jumping to his feet he paced the small, dingy room, tugging at his tangled and matted hair in distress, desperately trying to formulate a plan of how to tell her. 

He had to tell her. The girl he was in love with. The girl who was waiting for him in their shared flat back in London. 

This wasn’t a new occurrence, and he knew it would be best to rip off the bandaid and tell her before she found out some other way, because she always, always found out. He stalled a bit more to pull his clothes on, his stomach rolling once more at the sickly sweet smell of the nameless girl’s perfume lingering on his shirt, overpowering the smell of the party. He felt filthy. The phone sat dauntingly on the small, lopsided bedside table, and he slowly sank back onto the bed, cringing at the thought of what had happened there last night. 

He hated himself.

Three rings and there was her beautiful, musical voice, greeting whoever had called.

“Love.” he stated, his own voice thick and gravelly with the tears that were threatening to spill. The guilt threatening to consume him.

“You did it again.” she sighed. How did she know him so well that with one word she knew what he was going to tell her? The worst part was that she didn’t sound surprised or angry, just disappointed. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, his voice going hoarse as tears began to flow freely down his flushed cheeks. “God, I am so sorry. What’s wrong with me?” He genuinely wanted to know the answer to that question. Every time he was riding on the high of drugs or alcohol, or even just the high of rockstar life itself it was like a switch was flipped in his brain and suddenly a little flirting was okay. A little touching, maybe some kissing. But then that always led to more, he just couldn’t help himself. Each time he woke up realizing he’d done it again he hated himself for it, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he’d done it again. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Roger. You’re just weak.”

“But I love you,” he sobbed into the phone, his knuckles white from gripping the headset so hard, the cord wrapped so tightly around the fingers of the other hand that they were going numb. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Rog.”

“No!”

“I can’t. I’m leaving you, Rog. We’re done.”

“But—”

“No. I’ll pack my stuff, and I’ll be gone by the time you get back, okay? I’m leaving. You can’t stop me. You’ve hurt me one too many times.”

Roger took a deep, steadying breath. “Now you tell me you’re leaving, and I just can’t believe it’s true.” He could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces, knowing he’d finally done it: he’d driven her away. He couldn’t believe it. So many time’s she’d forgiven him, but he was out of chances. But he was still hopelessly in love. “Oh, you know that I can love you, though I know I can’t be true.” He hung his head, letting the tears fall. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just broken. I really do love you. So much. The others don’t mean anything, you know that.”

“I know, Roger, I know,” she sighed, her voice softening. “And I love you, I’m in love with you, but I can’t do this anymore. It just doesn’t work like that.”

“I can change—”

“Too late.” She cut him off, venom returning to her tone. “All too late. Goodbye, Rog.” 

The soft click of her hanging up on him seemed to reverberate through his skull with terrifying finality. He held the headset to his ear for several moments longer wishing that none of this had ever happened, then with a violently shaking hand, he placed it back on the receiver. All alone in an unfamiliar city with no clue where he was in relation to the rest of his band and crew, he curled up on the bed, hugging himself, and he cried himself to sleep, knowing he couldn’t fix this. 

All too late.


End file.
